image [https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/646bd9baef7e904ad31912d5/c2609650-09c4-4b53-869f-b2a44342717f/Akh+Nara+no+labels.png?format=750w&content-type=image%2Fpng]Vir’s jet-black cloak fluttered gently in the breeze. Samar Patag wasn’t a windy city, but the Gargan Sea provided a constant, refreshing wind that moderated the sweltering humidity. It helped to reduce his sweat. Sweat that could ruin his face paint if he wasn’t careful.
Vir was currently crouched atop a stone dome in the Chitran neighborhood, looking down over the town. Nonexistent in the slums to the north, domes such as these made for ideal vantage points.
Had he initially entered the city from the southwest—where the castle and the nicer buildings near it sat—he might even have concluded that Governor Asuman was doing a half-decent job running the city. Though they couldn’t compare to Avi or Balindam, both the roads and the buildings here were larger, fancier, and cleaner. More akin to Daha’s Commons than the Warrens that ringed it.
Getting here was far easier than he’d expected, for there were no walls dividing the slums from the Chitran part of town. The slums gradually became ex-Gargan Laborer Calling land, and finally proper Chitran turf as one neared the castle.
From his perch, he could see both the store he was to rob, as well as all the nearby streets, giving him a near-perfect vantage.
Vir glanced up at the keep. The castle stood tall and proud in the distance.
My family once lived there, he thought wistfully. It might’ve been brief, but for a time, his mother and father had reared him in those very walls.
Walls that stood tall and forbidding to him now. Like Daha, the castle area was walled, and within it, the keep rose prominently above the rest of the city.
Must’ve been nice… Warm, nostalgic feeling welled up inside Vir. Along with a tinge of regret.
Shan gruffed from beside him, prompting him to refocus on the more pressing matters at hand.
“That’s definitely a trap,” he muttered. Shan wheezed in agreement.
Vir didn’t imagine Bolin’s supply raids usually encountered a half-dozen armed Chitran guards, lying in wait to ambush him.
Unbeknownst to his foes, however, Prana Vision had just ruined their plans.
To their credit, the guards certainly knew what they were doing. Had it not been for their prana signatures, Vir would’ve thought them dead—they didn’t move an inch. These were trained warriors, not some muggers.
Which meant Governor Asuman was in on it.
What if Bolin had been the one to come here, and not me?
Would Asuman have harmed the boy? Or would they have taken him prisoner for committing theft? Either way, Vir doubted Bolin would’ve gone quietly. It would’ve gotten ugly, and so Vir was happy he’d placed the child out of harm’s way.
“The question is… what do we do now?”
The shadows were as long as always. Though the enemy guards hid in the same storeroom that housed the supplies he was to steal, there was a chance—albeit a small one—he could sneak in and out without being discovered.
A part of him wondered if he ought to just abandon the plan and do his own thing. There were so many Chitran homes in the area. Homes he could easily break into and steal from. The money the orphanage would raise by pawning them off…
But no. Luxury items like that would be discovered in short order. Even if the orphans broke down the jewelry and sold them piecemeal on the black market, questions would arise about where they were getting all this wealth. They’d be discovered, and the orphans would be the ones to pay the price.
Likewise, killing the hidden guards would be simple enough. Here again, however, their deaths would spark an investigation, and the blame would ultimately be traced to the orphans. Guilty or not, members of the Outcast Calling made for convenient scapegoats.
Despite all of this, simply stealing the food and leaving with no one being the wiser felt like the wrong solution, too. Yes, Vir could get the supplies this time, but what of the next run Bolin had to do? It’d just be delaying the inevitable.
No, Vir had to both obtain the food and ensure the guards would stay away in the future. From all who donned the mask.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Currently, that was just Vir. But soon, he hoped, members of the Rebellion would follow suit.
That’s another mess I need to deal with soon.
Vir had learned a thing or two about the rebellion from Janani, and what he’d heard hadn’t boded well.
The rebels were willing to use any means necessary to achieve their goals. They seemed vengeful and disorganized, and were notorious for mugging random Chitrans—sometimes even killing them.
If Vir’s venture was to be successful, he needed to contact the rebels, and he needed them under control.
That all starts here. Greesha wants me to make an impression? Well, that’s exactly what I’ll do.
Vir reached into his robe and produced a Chitran Warrior Calling badge. One of a few he’d had Greesha make. It showed a fake name and was thus untraceable.
“Shan. Stay in the shadows and take down whoever you can. Do not kill. Do not be seen.”
Vir took a deep breath and finalized his plan.
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Vir waited several minutes before dropping into the store’s rear yard with barely a sound.
The single-story store was like other buildings in the area, in that it had a yard behind it, about fifteen paces square, and open to the sky. Sturdy stone walls ten paces high secured the space, preventing easy access.
Only heavy barrels and other difficult-to-steal items had been placed here.
Vir perused the wares and learned that the bags containing the food he needed weren’t there. This was a trap, after all. Sadly, Vir guessed he’d be returning empty-handed.
A moment later, four of the Chitran guards who’d been disguising themselves under covers and inside crates leaped out.
Not bad, Shan. Not bad at all.
The Ashfire Wolf had neutralized two of the guards. All without making a sound or raising an alarm. Even Vir had lost sight of the black beast.
“Stop right there, criminal!” they shouted, surrounding him. Each wore the armor of the Chitran guards. Their monkey tails swished in the air behind them excitedly.
Vir shifted his weight to one leg and crossed his arms, standing nonchalantly.
“Who are you?” a monkey asked. “Why do you wear a mask?”
“Hmm? I could ask the same of you,” Vir said, putting on his best haughty voice. “What business would a half-dozen guards have here?”
“His Calling! Look!” someone shouted.
Vir’s Chitran Warrior Calling badge hung off his neck for all to see. A gold border ringed it, signifying him from one of the upper echelon Warrior Calling dynasties. The fake name on the badge had been hidden under a small piece of cloth, obscuring it from view.
“What of it?” Vir asked, passing his gaze from one to the other. He could almost feel them flinch—the mask he wore had only the barest slits for the eyes. So small, they wouldn’t be discernable from even a few paces away. It had no nose or mouth openings, so to them, it was featureless—and thus eerie.
“Apologies,” a guard—the captain, Vir assumed—said, stepping forward. “We weren’t expecting a Warrior Calling.”
“Which means you were expecting someone, then?” Vir asked, putting on his most refined haughty voice.
“Y-yes. A boy’s been stealing from this store. We were going to bring him to justice.”
“To justice, is it! Well, then! This must be quite the disappointment for you, then!” Vir said, theatrically gesturing with his arms.
“Er, yes. Look, ser. You really shouldn’t be here,” the guard captain said, scratching his head. “May I ask what your business is here?”
“My business is my own,” Vir said, scoffing. Only part of it was an act. The treatment he was receiving was night and day with how he’d have been treated if he’d brandished a Laborer or Outcast Calling.
“Well, I suggest you hurry along—”
“Still,” Vir said, cutting the captain off, “I suppose you could say this is a hobby of mine.”
“A… hobby?” the captain asked, looking at his guards in confusion. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“Well, you see? There’s nothing good at all to fight here! What good is all of my wealth and status when I can’t even test my mettle? As guards, surely you understand?”
The guard backed away a half step. “I’m afraid I don’t, ser.”
Now that you know I’m someone high in society, you won’t dare lift a finger, will you?
Vir didn’t especially enjoy fights. But he would look forward to this.
“This is the perfect opportunity, don’t you think? Fight me! Right here and now!”
“Er, I’m afraid I cannot do that, ser,” the guard said, visibly nervous despite his mask.
“Ah, yes, of course. Your silly code of conduct, right? Well, then. I hereby announce that I am committing a crime,” Vir said grandly.
“A… crime?”
“Yes! I am robbing food from this merchant!”
“W-why? Surely someone of your stature can’t want for food…”
“Why?” Vir asked as if the answer was obvious. “Well, for the thrill, of course! Do you have any idea how boring my life is? It’s just all so droll, isn’t it?”
The guards stood stunned for a moment. Vir moved to a barrel and sliced it open with his talwar—a weapon he chose intentionally to avoid giving away hints about his true identity.
Inside were potatoes, stacked to the brim. Vir took one and tossed it into the air.
“H-He’s with the Outcasts! Look!” another guard asked, but was immediately shushed by the captain.
“Outcast?” Vir said, as if the word were a profanity. “Don’t you dare lump me with those vermin. What I do, I do for myself, and no one else. You offend my very sensibilities by uttering that word.”
“O-Of course, ser. Of course,” the captain said, bowing repeatedly. “Stand down, everyone.”
It was ironic to Vir that the Chitrans’ own Calling System enabled this gambit. The captain understood Vir was someone high in the Warrior Calling social strata. Someone, perhaps, with connections that could get the captain fired. Or worse. Someone they could not afford to offend.
“Ser, please just take the food and leave. We are upholders of the law. We will not fight you.”
Vir sighed theatrically. “Well, then I suppose I shall. You won’t mind if I take my pick?”
“If you must,” the captain replied.
“You’re just letting him get away with this?” another monkey said.
“Stop, Javin. You do not yet understand our ways,” the captain said, now visibly sweating.
“Oh, no. I understand. I see what is going on here. And I will not stand for it!”
Vir couldn’t help but admire the demon’s sense of honor.
Too bad it’s so sorely misplaced.
“No! Stop! That is an order!” the captain bellowed, but it was too late. Javin rushed forth and slashed at Vir.
Vir spun, his talwar clanging with the guard’s. Under his mask, he smiled. The enemy had so graciously taken his bait.